


Beach Walk

by aces_mild



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Post-Pacifist Ending, Reader Is Not Frisk, a beach-themed drabble, but i like it so it's going back up, i've posted this before, properly edited and slightly re-worked, reader doesn't know shit about sand dollars, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces_mild/pseuds/aces_mild
Summary: You decide to go for a late-night walk on the beach, and Sans decides to join you.This fic takes up that little space between 'friends' and 'lovers'. Cute banter and romantic gestures. Very soft.





	Beach Walk

You leave your flip-flops behind at the place where the pavement meets the sand and walk barefoot across the footbridge over the sand dunes. One the other side, you watch the last remaining sliver of the sun sink below the waves. You bury your feet in the sand, which has gone from burning hot to comfortingly warm in the fading light of dusk. 

You lose yourself in the moment a bit, and when a familiar voice calls your name, you jolt and spin around to find the source. Your heart leaps into your throat...but only for a moment. You quickly realize that the looming figure standing atop the dunes is just your friend, Sans the skeleton. His hollow eye sockets and illuminated skull spooked you for a second, but then he loses his balance and slides down the dune on his bony ass, mumbling curses under his breath. You can’t help but laugh as you extend your hand to help him up.

“Why didn’t you take the bridge?” you ask, pulling him to his feet.

“took a shortcut.”

“Pretty shit shortcut.”

“i, uh, didn’t realize those weren’t solid,” he admits, gesturing to the sand dunes. He uses his free hand to brush sand off his gym shorts, but he’s still holding your hand with the other. He doesn’t seem to notice, and doesn’t let go when you do. Maybe he still feels unbalanced? 

There’s a beat of silence before he notices your hands, and quickly lets go, shoving both of his into his pockets. But you’re not really paying attention to his hands. No, it’s his face that has your attention.

Because it’s glowing.

That same blue tint you’d seen across his cheekbones before lights up nearly his whole face in the dark, making him look like a skull-shaped cyan nightlight. 

“Oh! So that’s what that is,” you say, out loud, without really meaning to. 

“what?”

“You’re blushing.”

His cheekbones glow just a bit brighter. “you have no proof of that.”

“You’re kidding, right? It’s pretty obvious, dude.” you reach out and poke his face, making it worse. “That’s adorable.”

Sans just groans, pulling his hood up over his head and taking a few steps away from you. 

“Relax, Sans! It’s just us. No reason to be embarrassed!” you reassure him. He doesn’t respond. “...Look, I’ll leave you alone about it. But you have to tell me why you followed me to the beach, deal?”

His blush fades, if only slightly. “i was awake, and heard you leave. figured it might not be safe for you to be out here by yourself.”

“Aha.” you hadn’t really considered the safety of what you were doing. You’d done this a ton when you were little, and nothing bad had happened. Looking back, it might not have been the best idea… “Thanks. I appreciate the company.”

“no problem.”

There’s another moment of silence between you, and you break it by suggesting, “why don’t we go walk by the water?” it’s where you were gonna go anyway, with or without him. He seemed content to just follow along, falling into step beside you. By the time you reach solid, packed-in sand, he’s no longer bright enough to be a functioning flashlight, which is fine, because the nearly-full moon is more than enough light to go by. 

“So this is the first time you’ve ever been to the beach?” 

“yup. not much sun n’ surf underground.”

“I bet not,” you grumble. You purposely avoided asking what it was like down there. You didn’t want to dredge up any unwanted memories. “It’s way different during the day. Crowds, gulls, sunshine...most people either love it or they hate it.”

“what about you?”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Why do you always ask the hard questions?”

“‘cause you bring ‘em up?”

“Fair enough, I guess...I have strongly mixed feelings.”

“you’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

You tilt your head back, looking up at the sky and considering your answer. “Well...I love some things. The warmth of the sun on my skin, the feeling of swimming in the waves, the sight of seagulls overhead, the smell of sunscreen…”

“...but…?”

“But there are other things I can’t stand. Like...sand. I hate sand getting everywhere, and I hate getting sunburn, and seaweed getting stuck in my hair...Seagulls are assholes up close, too.” Sans is laughing, apparently amused by your frustration. “Seriously! One time, a seagull stole a whole-ass sandwich from me. The whole thing! Right out of my hands! They’re the worst.” 

“ok, i’ll be sure to keep an eye socket out for sand, seaweed, and seagulls,” he says, counting them off on his hand. “i think I’m safe from sunburn, though.”

“Yeah. You’d need skin for that to be a problem.” You think for a moment. “Can your bones bleach?”

“uh...dunno. too much sun exposure has never been an issue.”

“True, true...besides, you look pretty bleached already.” 

“what cant i say? i’m naturally pale.” he says with a shrug.

The two of you laugh, and there’s a long stretch of comfortable silence. Then, you see something illuminated in the surf nearby, and rush over to it before the next wave can sweep it away. It’s a sand dollar! Score! You show it off to Sans.

“so, it’s money?”

“No, more like a collectible. Like shells and stuff.”

“and you just found it on the beach? did someone throw it away?”

“No, it came from the ocean.” you turn it over and show him the other side. “It’s the outer casing of a living creature. Some kind of barnacle, I think. This is where it’s mouth would be…see, when they die, their shells get emptied out, and sometimes wash up on the beach. Same happens with seashells…”

“why’s it called a dollar, then?” 

“Probably because human dollars used to be coins. Still are, in some places.” You let him take it so he can look at it closer, holding it carefully in his bony hands. “It’s probably worth way more than a dollar. They’re a pretty rare find.”

“no kiddin’...” 

“Not sure you could get anyone to buy it from you, though, so don’t get any ideas!” You chide jokingly, knowing his tendency to try and sell people literal garbage. 

A breeze goes by, and you’re left with a bit of a chill from your wet legs. You pull your arms in close and rub them for warmth. 

“eh, it’s your find, anyway. wouldn’t be right for me to sell it.” He goes to hand it back. “oh. hey, you cold?”

“Nah, I’m good.” You take the sand dollar from him. Your chill will pass. It has to! It’s gotta be over seventy degrees out! 

You start walking again, keeping your eyes glued to the waterline, hoping you’ll find another cool thing to show Sans. 

“here.” Before you can turn to face him, Sans drops his jacket over your shoulders. The worn blue fabric isn’t terribly warm, but it’s enough to keep the hair on your arms from standing on end. 

“Aww, Sans, you don’t have to...but I’m glad you did.” You pull your arms through the sleeves. Glancing at his face, you see that it’s glowing slightly again. You reach out a hand to poke his cheekbone... 

But Sans grabs it before you make contact. “stop, seriously.” He’s trying to keep a serious tone, but he’s chuckling at your antics. “i can’t hide it anymore. if you keep makin’ fun of me for it, i’ll be bright enough to see from space.”

“I think that’d be pretty stellar.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence that you revel in before he bursts out laughing and lightly pushes you away. 

You suck at puns, so you never make any...but that was a really good one! You’re glad he can appreciate it, but you start to lose your appreciation when he rattles off a few dozen of his own, shifting from space-themed to beach-themed to your-name-themed. Does he spend hours brainstorming these, or are they a spur-of-the-moment thing? Either way, it’s impressive and also very annoying. 

Eventually, you’ve had enough, and you sprint away from him towards a lifeguard chair. You know he won’t bother running to catch up to you, so you’re safe for a few moments. Well, you think you are, anyway.

You start climbing the lifeguard chair, but by the time you reach the top, Sans is already there. You roll your eyes. “Really?” He winks, and offers you a hand, which you happily take. 

This time, you’re the one who doesn’t let go. You keep a hold on his bony hand even after you’re seated comfortably next to him. I mean, why not? His feelings about you are pretty obvious. And you like him, too, even if you’re not as obvious or easily flustered about it. 

He just looks at you for a while, his usual grin mixed with confusion. You smile at him reassuringly. 

His face is still pretty flushed, though it’s all in his cheekbones now instead of being spread over his whole face. “this is...okay?” he asks. His hesitation makes sense, since you were the one who let go before. 

“Yup!” 

“oh. okay. cool.” he doesn’t seem to have much else to say. Or maybe you just caught him off guard? In any case, you put a stop to his awful puns. 

For the next few minutes, waiting for some of the tension to settle, you scan the horizon. Thanks to the moon, it’s easy to see where the ocean stops and the sky begins. Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed. You much prefer when the sky is indistinguishable from the sea, and the whole expanse of navy blue is endless and mesmerizing. 

You gaze slowly drifts up, searching for constellations until your neck is bent back over the chair, and you’re staring straight up at the Milky Way above. There’s another thing that would look a lot more impressive if the moon wasn’t so full, you think. Sans seems completely enamored with it, though. You look over at him, and see that his sockets are wide, taking it all in for what you realize might be the first time. Ebott Valley’s sandwiched between two big cities, so the light pollution blocks out most of the stars. 

You let him just...soak it all in. You’d hate to ruin the moment for him. But...well, after a while, you can’t help but let out a yawn. He turns to you, looking just slightly more relaxed than usual, his blush long since faded. Now the tiny points of light in his eyes are the brightest thing on him. 

“why don’t we head back?” he suggests, even though he doesn’t look tired at all. 

You nod, and let go of his hand so you can stretch. You stand, and climb down the lifeguard chair. By the time your feet hit the sand, Sans is already there, his hand reached out to you. You take it once more, this time lacing your fingers with his, and you don’t let go until the ocean is far behind you.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read my stuff before this might be a bit familiar. I think this is the third time I've posted a variation of this drabble, and each time I fix it up and send it back out...because I like it, and I hope you like it, too.   
Recommended Listening: Saltwater Room, by Owl City


End file.
